Life of a Confederate Soldier in a Federal Prison (1909?)

Describes the experiences of a Craven County resident while in a northern
prison camp during the Civil War.

John B. Ernul (May 28, 1843-January 13 or 14, 1918) enlisted in 1st
Co. I, 10th Regiment, NCST, on September 17, 1861, at the age of 18. On April
16, 1863, he was transferred to Company A, 1st Battalion, N.C. Local Defense
Troops (Whitford's Battalion N.C. Partisan Rangers). That company was formed
into Company A, 67th Regiment, NCST, on January 18, 1864 [Lewis Manarin, et als.,
North Carolina Troops, 1861-1865 (Raleigh, N.C.: NCDAH, 1966), 14 vols
to date, 1:142 and 3:88].

Ernul appears to have been wounded and captured on March 7, 1865, and sent to
Point Lookout, Maryland. He was discharged from prison on June 11, 1865,
returning to New Bern on June 23 (taken from his narrative).

After the war, Ernul moved to New Bern, where he was listed as a shingle
dealer in the 1880 Craven County census. He married Nancy Potter (April 7,
1852-September 18, 1899) on May 7, 1876 [Beauchamp, 1880 Craven County Census
(New Bern, N.C.: Beauchamp, 2002), p. ?; Craven County Marriage Register 5].

Ernul died on January 13, 1918 (or on January 14, 1918, according to his
tombstone), at the age of 74, and is buried in Cedar Grove Cemetery in New Bern.
He was survived by one daughter, Delve Ernul (Mrs. John W.) Rawls [New Bern
Morning New Bernian, January 15, 1918, Cemeteries of Craven County, North
Carolina, vol. 1, City of New Bern (New Bern: ENCGS, 1993?), p. 170].

[Click on an image to enlarge that image.]

Cover

LIFE OF A CONFEDERATE SOLDIER
IN A FEDERAL PRISON.

By J. B. ERNUL, Vanceboro, N. C.

As the greater number of the boys of ‘61 and ‘65, who donned the Gray and
fought for the Right as they saw the right, have passed over the mysterious
river Styx and are at rest under the shade of the Tree of Life, and those
who still remain must soon follow, I have decided to write a sketch of my
life as a Confederate soldier.

In the spring of 1861, while the men and boys were gathering at every
crossroad and station to enlist as soldiers to drive out those who were
oppressing the South, I became anxious to cast my lot with the rest. So I
obtained the consent of my parents and joined Co. I, 10th N. C. Regiment,
Artillery, but later on was transferred to Infantry.

When not at drill the time was spent in the vices of army life. A gambling
epidemic broke out which spread with great rapidity and but few made escape

[p.2]
I saw men give half their rations to have the other cooked rather than stop
gambling. All kinds of gambling was practiced morality for the time was
ignored and the soldier who endeavored to live right was ridiculed. If
caught reading his Bible, such expressions were heard as “Hello parson, you
must be scared, I don’t think there will be any fighting soon” or “Hello
parson what time do you expect to start a revival in camp.” Later on,
however, serious thoughts of religion prevailed. When the shot and shell
began to whiz by them, splintering rails and tearing off tree tops, with
comrades falling around, they began to realize the great need of religion.
One good battery with a good supply of grape and shell, holding an elevated
position could bring hard hearted sinners to repentance. It did not require
a dozen old sisters with their turkey wings begging them to repent of their
sins. They were truly good then but the great trouble was in keeping them
so. If his

[p. 3]
life was spared the sacred resolution would not be long remembered. This
order of things lasted only a few days, however, when some fellow would slip
around to the Sutler tent and purchase a new deck of cards, return to his
quarters, pick up an oilcloth and spread it on the ground, open up his new
deck and begin to shuffle. Some three or four others would step up and a
regu­lar game of seven up or draw poker would begin. In less than a week the
Bible reader would be a thing of the past, when gambling would go on as
before and would not stop until the next signa1 for a fight was heard in the
front, when the same unloading would take place with gambling goods.

On the 14th of March, 1862, I got my first experience in real war, but as I
am writing mainly of my life in prison camp, Point Lookout, and how I was
captured by a Yankee, I’ll go back to March 7, 1865.

It was reported that Schoefield’s Army Corps was advancing. We marched

[p. 4]
to a creek to investigate and found the enemy in full view. They shelled us
pretty lively all that evening, but made no attempt to charge. Our
commanding officer decided that we had better get in their rear, so we
started to the rear of the “Yanks” about an hour before day to play tag with
them for a spell. We found them about sunrise and were received right
warmly. After much tagging on both sides, the "Yanks" gave way and we
captured some two or three thousand of them. I was wounded in my leg, and
seeing a pool of water I thought I would bathe my leg and stop the blood.
While busily engaged with my work, up poked a “Yank” and said, “Johnny, you
are mine, come with me and I will take you to a summer resort, we have room
enough for you all.” We went to his General’s headquarters, when we arrived
an aide went in the tent and the general came out, made a slight bow and I
saluted him. He asked me many questions concerning the troops in his

[p. 5]
rear, then asked me if my leg was painful, called a doctor who examined my
wound and said there were small pieces of bone in the wound which made
amputation necessary. I noticed a “Yank” standing near who winked at me,
came closer and whispered, “Don’t let that d----butcher take your leg off.”
I was then told to take off my equipment. They took my belt, at which I
objected, I told the general if I were going to a summer resort there might
be ladies there, and I could not make a very admirable appearance holding my
pants up with both hands. The general then told a soldier to give me my
belt. The firing then began near us, I was thrown on a horse and all moved
off lively for a mile or so. We came to a place where some “Yanks” were
cooking and eating. We prisoners were dismounted and were treated very
kindly by our captors. The next morning there were seven more prisoners
brought into camp, I think they were Georgians, and not slow on the eating
line either. I

[p. 6]
heard some of the Yankees say that “If all the Johnnies were as good
fighters as they were eaters, Schofield had better retreat lively.”

We lay around for a short time with the “Yanks,” eating and playing cards.
Their food became scarce, then our troubles began. We were put on board a
transport and started for the “summer resort.” There were about eight
hundred of us prisoners. After we had gotten out to sea they began to issue
rations of raw pickled beef and hard tack to us of which we all ate
heartily. The sea was awfully rough, the waves rolling high and soon it was
very evident that almost every prisoner was suffering dreadfully with
seasickness, while their cries for water were pitiable to hear. After
several days we arrived at our “summer resort.” We were taken from the barge
to the headquarters of the officers. There were many ladies present. I
suppose they were members of the officers’ families. I saw some of the
ladies pointing at us and remarking,

[p. 7]
I suppose about our appearances. Some of us were barefooted, others without
hats, while our pants were worn off on the bosoms and knees, the tails were
heavily fringed denoting long and hard service. We were required to give our
names and commands, names of States from which we came, after which we were
marched to the “bull pen.” On the way to the pen I saw a big pile of coffins
and wondered what they could do with so many. I found out later. We got to
the gate. It was thrown open and we marched in. Things were looking bad to
me. The prisoners were placed in tents from eight to ten to the tent, with
no other bedding but our clothes. The next morning we drew meat. I thought
at the time it was rather small for a meal, but found out it was to last all
day. At ten o’clock, we drew one-half loaf of bread (half loaf to each man)
and one pint of soup. As we were all sick the rations did very well for a
while. On Saturday each man drew a

[p. 8]
loaf of bread to last until Monday. I carefully hid half of my first loaf, I
thought in a safe place, but when I went for it Sunday it was gone. No one
can imagine my disappointment at my loss. I feel sure that my bread was not
stolen by a Confederate for they did not steal (one might have borrowed it)
and though I felt hard towards who ever got it then, I have forgiven him
since, if he were a Confederate and on­ly borrowed it. After that first
Sunday I hid no more bread but put it where friends could not borrow it, nor
thieves could steal it. I spent Sundays in fasting and prayer, and in
watching the negro guard marching around in white paper collars and white
gloves, which made them appear more hateful to us. I heard some Texans say
“Those black sons of perdiction are afraid of
getting
sunburnt.”

After I had been in prison a few days I began to suffer from hunger. I saw
some of the boys eating broiled rats, they smelled very appetizing, but I

[p. 9]
could not get any to eat. I decided that I must either find something to eat
or starve; on looking about I saw some oats or rye growing beyond the dead
line, knowing that it was death to be caught beyond the death line, I waited
until dark to venture out for some of the grain. I thought I could make soup
of the grain, I got a turn of it, came back and put it on to boil. The
longer it boiled the tougher it became and the less fit it was to eat, so I
gave up trying to find more to eat than my captors pleased to give me.

While walking about one day I
accidently passed the guard at the hospital
gate Passing through the wards down to the dead house I saw thirty or forty
of the poorest objects I had ever seen before. There were two that looked
rather fleshy. Seeing a fellow standing near I thought I’d ask some
questions, so began: “How long have you been here, brother?” “Eight months,”
he replied. “Of what kind of sickness did those men die?” He replied, “They

[p. 10]
starved to death.” “What killed those fleshy ones?” “They got drowned diving
into the soup kettle for beans.” They were cooks, he said. I then asked him
if he thought there was any chance for me to get cook’s place that I would
gladly work all day and part of the night to keep from starving. He shook
his head and walked off. I passed on disgusted with all I had seen.

Now I am coming to the toughest thing I had ever struck. After leaving the
dead house I came to the guard. He told me to halt. I told him that I
belonged to the other side and must go. Holding his gun up so that I could
see down its barrel, he said, “That ball is whirling fast, it wants to get
out.” He then called a white man, who came and talked to me awhile, and then
said, “You need some jewelry, something like a twelve pound ball and chain.”
Oh! horror of horrors, if any of my piney-woods friends could have heard me
then. But my pleadings were all in vain. I sat down and received the

[p. 11]
jewelry. I sat there for a while thinking. I can’t express how badly I
felt--can’t remember a time when I felt worse. I felt ever so much better a
few years later when I asked my girl a civil question and got the right
ans­wer. I finally concluded that as long as that d----ball and chain must
be my constant torment for a while at least, I had just as well move off
with it, so I gathered it up and went to my tent. The boys just gazed at me
when I threw the d----thing on the ground in my tent. My bunk mate asked me
what had hap­pened, and I gave them the whole story. After I had told him
all about it, my bunk mate said “That darn thing will give you more trouble
than twins ever gave their mother at night.” I don’t think he missed it far
either. If possible I think my jewelry gave me more trouble at night when
the Jerusalem overtakers were on strictest duty. I began to notice that
those who had been wearing a ball and chain were not wearing them any more,
so I began inquiring

[p. 12]
and learned that there was a person in camp who had a file and would file a
ball and chain off for a chew of tobacco, I found him and had soon concluded
a bargain. The gate on the bay stayed open during the day time. Anyone
noticing would have seen me going toward the end of the wharf carrying my
haversack, but only one person knew what it contained. That ball and chain
is now resting on the bottom of Chesapeake Bay.

The greatest difficulty in prison was the necessity of getting through the
first few days with nothing to do. These hours dragged slowly. Some were
able to pass a great number in sleeping. Those of less nerve slept fifteen
or more hours, but others found such indulgence impossible and were forced
to seek other methods of enduring the tiresome days and nights.

There were some very amusing things happened in camp. Now to think of such
as toting barrels and boxes every day, but to see thousands of the

[p. 13]
boys on a fair evening with their shirts off hunting the seams for--we know
what--so they might get a little rest, for the Jerusalem overtakers were
very bad and a bit sharp.

One amusing feature of prison life was a barber who would daily walk through
the camp and repeat, “Here goes your good old Tar Heel barber, will shave
you for a chew of tobacco. If anyone will shave you cheaper, I’ll give you a
chew to let me shave you.”

In prison camp I belonged to Company I, Sixth Division, near the big cross
ditch.

On the 11th of June, 1865 a notice was put on the bulletin board that all
the prisoners were to be discharged. This notice brought forth the most
joyous yells I had heard in months. About twenty thousand men and boys made
a rush for the gate. Each man gave his name, company, regiment and State,
the same as when he entered prison, then received his discharge. My name
happened to be among the first called.

[p. 14]
I think I smiled for the first time in months. I gave my name, company,
regiment and State, took the oath and received my parole, which I still
have. We were put aboard a boat about dark and started for Richmond, Va. We
arrived in Richmond about 4 p. m. The next day we got off the boat and the
guard told us to move on. As we did not at first know which way to move,
there was a little confusion. We were given permission to camp in the
Capitol square until we could get transportation home. While passing Libby
prison a Yankee called to me and said, “Johnnie, don’t you want some boiled
pork and hard tack?” I smiled or tried to smile an answer. He gave me about
two pounds of pork and filled my haversack with hard tack. I am sure that
Yankee’s heart was in the right place and believe he will get his reward for
passing “the cup of water.” I had gathered up a lot of cigar stumps on my
way to camp, so I ate pork and hardtack and chewed and smoked cigar

[p. 15]
stumps nearly all at the same time. I slept well that night.

We got transportation by way of Danville, Va., Greensboro, N.C., Raleigh,
N.C., and New Bern, N.C. The next day after we reached New Bern I got to my
home June 23rd 1865

Well, it is all over now, and I do not feel unkindly toward the Northern
soldier who fought because he felt it his duty to fight. We only differed in
opinion. Some one is to blame though for placing black, ignorant brutes as
guards over Confederate prisoners. I don’t think there are many of those
prisoners who can forgive and forget that much of the past. I can’t
understand who or why any Southern white man can vote any ticket except the
Democratic ticket today. It seems to me that there must be something wrong
in the upper-story of the Republican voters of the South. But that too, is,
I suppose, just a difference in opinions.

This project is supported with federal
LSTA
funds made possible through a grant from the Institute of Museum and
Library Services, administered by the
State Library of North
Carolina, a division of the Department of Cultural Resources through
the North Carolina ECHO, 'Exploring
Cultural Heritage Online' Digitization Grant Program.